


Home for the Hornydays

by salarta



Category: Home Alone (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Exhibitionism, Food, Holidays, Humiliation, Lingerie, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other, Parody, Porn Watching, Porny Parody, Sex Toys, Shaving, Situational Humiliation, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salarta/pseuds/salarta
Summary: Kate McCallister finds herself stuck at home alone for the holidays, where she experiences a series of absurdly suggestive and embarrassing mishaps.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Home for the Hornydays

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I started writing this at the very beginning of this year, and decided to actually wrap up and post before Christmas. If you continue on, you'll see the atmosphere is meant more in the vein of "ludicrous porn parody of the Home Alone concept." I did end up using a [teddy I found online](https://imgur.com/RwISV1M) and a piece of work by Rekks as inspiration. Also, I don't know how to indent without making a special Work Skin and I don't have time to do that, so you get blockquotes until I have the time. Anyway, happy holidays!

Another year, another Christmas.

The McCallister family had many traditions to celebrate this most important holiday. They had Christmas dinner, with all the ready-made delivery pizza that money could buy. They had the Christmas trip, where they spent thousands on overpriced flights and hotels in peak season to escape Chicago. Decorations, presents, even the damned house was a monument to their excess, with its floors and walls covered in red and green. One look at their lives around this time of year said everything that needed saying about their upper class suburban privilege, and it would be a lie to say they did not enjoy flaunting what they had.

But this year, after a second time in a row, they could finally add a new tradition. It may not have involved opening up their check books or emptying their wallets, but in truth it perfectly showed just how elitist they really were.

They left someone home alone.

Only this time, it wasn't a kid who got left behind in a mad rush for the airport. This time, the honor went to someone older, hotter, and far less happy to be by herself in a big empty house for the holidays.

Sure, Kate McCallister could shell out for a new flight to join her family. If they hadn't taken her luggage with them, including her purse, driver's license, car keys and flight ticket. And if all the neighbors hadn't left for the holidays as well. _And_ if she had something to wear other than some tacky joke lingerie she got the night before.

Sitting at the dining room table, she read through an itinerary she would never enjoy and cursed her bad luck. Why on earth did they decide to send the rest of their clothes to a dry cleaner before the trip? Why did she leave her travel clothes on her luggage while she showered, and why did _someone_ decide to pack and take it?

These questions loomed in her thoughts while she wore a red teddy with white lace and white fur that arched over her bared breasts. One of the dumbest, sleaziest outfits she ever wore. She would never dare to walk around the house in it... with anyone else around.

Lucky for her, she didn't need to worry about that. She could strut through the kitchen with her boobs hanging out all day. And she would. Because some cover was better than no cover.

Who would see it? Nobody. She was home alone.

**************

They made a big mistake. Like their clothes, the family cleared out their kitchen before the trip. She had few options. After raiding the fridge, the freezer, the pantry, the presents and all five of her kids' bedrooms, she found exactly two hearty food groups to last her for two whole weeks.

Candy and ice cream.

Chocolate for breakfast. Candy canes for lunch. Jelly beans for dinner. At this exact moment of her second day, she dug a spoon into her third bowl of strawberry ice cream and shifted in her big brown chair. The leather stuck to her ass thanks in large part to how her teddy rode up into her crack. With a tongue and tummy grumbling for something besides junk, Kate briefly scowled at her meal before looking to the TV for one of few blessings she could count during this unwanted staycation.

She could finally watch the movie her husband didn't want her to see: Devils with Clean Souls. Tape already in the VCR, she picked up the remote and pressed play.

> An office appeared on the screen in black and white. Knock on the door. Cut to the desk, where a well-groomed woman in dress shirt, vest and tie sat in front of a window. Annoyed by the interruption, she set down her paper and magnifying glass.
> 
> "Who is it?" the woman asked.
> 
> In entered another woman. Comely and debonair, her trenchcoat flowed behind her. She tipped her trilby hat. 
> 
> "It's me, Fakes. I got the stuff."
> 
> "Leave it on the doorstep and get the hell outta here," the woman at the desk answered.
> 
> This did not sit well with Fakes. "All right, Joannie. But where's my money?"

This... didn't seem so bad. No, not bad at all. Why would her husband hide a female remake of a classic gangster film behind the entertainment center? Maybe it was the acting. Wooden movements, tone deaf dialogue, the actresses clearly only took this gig for a paycheck. The cheap set didn't help sell the atmosphere.

Maybe her husband was ashamed for liking such a terrible movie? Yes, that had to be it. Brimming with pride at her brilliant deduction, Kate grinned wide and bellowed for absolutely no one to hear.

"Honey, I'm eating junk food and watching your rubbish! You better come out and stop me."

A moment later, she sighed. It didn't feel quite as thrilling as she hoped. No matter. With nothing else to do with her time, she committed to the rest of the movie and what little joys she could invent for herself along the way.

Or at least, that's what she thought she would do. Until...

> Joannie stood. Reaching down, she undid her zipper to reveal a massive strap-on. It flopped across the desk, cracking her magnifying glass. Her fingers moved on to unbuttoning her vest and shirt as she talked.
> 
> "Hey, tell you what I'm gonna do, Fakes. I'm gonna give ya to the count of ten to get yer ugly, no good, gold diggin ass off my property before I pump it fulla lead."
> 
> Fakes' eyes widened in horror at the sheer size of that monster sex toy. Stammering, she backed away toward the door and turned. "All right, Joannie. I'm sorry. I'm goin."
> 
> "One... two... ten!"
> 
> Leaping over her desk, Joannie tugged Fakes' pants down to her ankles and rammed the shaft right up her hole. Each thrust brought a cheek quake to show its raw power - further emphasized when the camera cut to close-ups of the action. Impossibly, Fakes shuddered from pleasure rippling in her cunt, following tried and true porn logic of what a reaming would do to a hot woman. Joannie cackled the whole time. Horny. Power-tripping. Stark raving mad. A measly minute in, Fakes collapsed in orgasmic bliss. The strap-on slipped free as she fell. 
> 
> Standing over the moaning, writhing mess on her floor, Joannie fished a few dollars out of her bra and threw them on Fakes' spent body. "Keep the change ya filthy animal."

What the hell was that?! Cheeks flushed with a mix of outrage and disgust, Kate paused the tape and glowered. She obviously wasn't a virgin. Five children attested to that. Yet, never in her life had she seen such _filth_. How could her husband watch one woman violate another against her will, fiction or not? Her sheltered upper crust mind shattered by this revelation, Kate shouted the only thing she could think at the top of her lungs.

"PETER!"

**************

It was while chomping down on a mouthful of blueberry cotton candy that Kate heard a knock. Compared to the pervasive silence of the past couple days, it sounded positively ear-splitting. The sanctity of isolation gave way to first relief at another person, then dread, as she realized what that meant.

She had to answer. In lingerie. Topless. A second knock pressed the urgency of deciding whether to ignore it or act. Her pride insisted she keep to herself. Her belly, on the other hand, jabbed her with an ache that only an unwavering diet of junk could give. In the end, she obeyed the louder voice and headed for the front door. Peeking through the window, she spotted a police officer of roughly same height. Short blonde hair, wide hips, a few other assets she wouldn't normally judge if not for Peter's porn movie still running through her head.

Reluctantly, Kate unlocked and opened the door. She had so many things to explain, a jumble to go through and she didn't know where to begin.

She didn't get a chance. The officer barged in of her own accord. "Hi, ma'am. I'm here to talk to you about-"

The moment the officer turned to look at Kate, they both froze. Kate standing stock still with her whole body on display. The officer staring, starting from the feet and working her way up to those huge tits on display under a line of fur. If Kate had paid attention, she could have noticed the officer's saucy smirk. The expression came and went while the sleazily dressed redhead focused too much on what this officer might think of her to... well... realize what she _really_ thought of her.

Kate's hands flew up to cover her chest. Her knees bent in, as she hunched over to hide her cameltoe. "I-it's not what it looks like!"

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure," the officer said, playing the part of a disinterested party. "It's not my business what you do in the privacy of your own home, lady. You can cheat on your husband all you want, it makes no difference to me."

"That's not-!" a flabbergasted Kate sputtered. Surprisingly, in the haze of her self-defensive shame, she realized, "Wait... how do you know I'm married?"

"Who wouldn't, with the size of _that_ rock."

Kate glanced at her finger. Overcome with a sense of haughty joy from the observation, she extended her hand to show her wedding ring. The absolutely huge diamond stuck out on the golden band. "Oh, this little thing? It's five carats. I know, it's not much, but we weren't making a lot of money back then."

The officer took her sweet time 'admiring' the diamond. Really got a good look. From multiple angles. Wrenching Kate's wrist to pore over every subtle detail. Just when she flirted with the limits of her assumed authority, she let go. "That looks like some pretty expensive jewelry you have on. I take it there's more where that came from?"

Oblivious, Kate lowered her guard - and her arms - to gush about her collection. "Oh yes. I easily have over $500,000 worth. I'm wearing the best, of course. No point in having it if you don't get to enjoy it."

If what the officer saw was any indication, Kate had to be loaded. A pair of long diamond drop earrings, as well as two rings - one pure silver and the other gold with emerald inlay - would have made a high pay day alone. Trying her best not to show her interest any further, the officer shifted focus.

"That's what I'm here to talk to you about. It's Christmas time, always a lot of burglars around the holidays. They like to target affluent neighborhoods like yours."

"Oh," Kate muttered as it slowly dawned on her. She was alone, in a big house, no neighbors. Crooks might break in because the house looked empty. Or worse. They might break in because it _isn't_. "Oh my. Are they dangerous?"

"Could be, ma'am. One thing we know, they call and try to trick anyone that answers into giving them information before a hit. The pros can even tap into your phone. It's best if you don't use it at all."

"They can do that?"

The officer nodded. "Another thing, they might show up pretending they're police. Whatever you do, don't answer. I'm the only officer assigned to check this neighborhood."

Ignorant as always, Kate smiled in agreement. "I'm so glad you stopped by. If you hadn't, I might've let them in the house like an idiot. Who knows what they could do to me for the two weeks I'm stuck here by myself."

"That's what we're here for. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes, can you bring me some things? I'm kind of in a bind. This is all I have to wear, and for the past two days I've been eating nothing but..." Kate gestured. Dirty dishes sat in the kitchen sink. Candy wrappers and bags lay in piles on the living room floor. Without people to impress, she lost the will to maintain her picture perfect cleanliness, and it showed. "If I get some good clothes, I can go pawn my jewelry and buy some real food."

To this, the officer shook her head. Admittedly, the suggestion tempted her. But she knew better. Best to wait. "Sorry, ma'am. We're not allowed to run errands or give gifts. I could be written up for not doing my job or wasting police resources."

"Can you at least tell someone where I am and what I need? I'm so sick of ice cream."

"I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do. What I can tell you right now is a lot of people won't believe a woman living in this house badly needs what you're asking for. Besides, I might tell a burglar. I don't think you want that."

Aghast, Kate's face went pale. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips. "Right, you're right. How stupid of me. I guess I can handle this for two more weeks."

"If you're sure," the officer feigned concern.

"Very sure. Look, see? I'm starting to love my new diet already."

Snatching another cotton candy bag from the nearby table, she ripped it open and stuffed the whole glob in her mouth at once. Her cheeks puffed out to contain it. Eyes bulging at her own panicky act, her face quickly screwed to disgust at another sugary assault on her tongue. If she could see herself, she would realize how utterly ridiculous she looked.

That didn't stop her. Munching on her lunch, she fought her own expressions to force a simpering smile. "Mmm, delicious. Who needs steak and lobster when you can have candy. I can't get enough."

Unable to resist her urge, the officer mussed Kate's elegant coiffure and admired her mark's eagerness to please. Yes. She would save this little piece of ass for last. "I can see that. Take care of yourself, and don't worry about your home. It's in good hands."

**************

Fortunately for Kate, her husband left behind something besides her. His razor ran so smooth against her pussy. The blades did such an expert job, not a hint of stubble remained. The finger test proved its value beyond anything she bought for women.

"Ah, that's better. Being home alone is no reason to neglect proper grooming. Can't find moisturizer, otherwise I'm in good shape."

No sooner had she said that, when she spotted her salvation. A bottle of BRUT 33 on the bathroom sink. Grabbing it, she poured lotion into her palm. There _had_ to be a reason men used it every day, she reasoned. She already missed out on the best razor on market because companies marketed it to men. Perhaps this aftershave would prove equally amazing. In a single satisfying slap, she smeared it all over her bare mons.

... And instantly regretted it.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Her quim burned. The pain hit so hard, she stood wailing in front of the mirror with her hand squeezing her crotch on reflex. Not the slightest thought of pulling it away occurred to her. But, she did notice the odd sensation of her nipples standing fully erect. Almost like they enjoyed it.

**************

Breaking into her son's chest of belongings wasn't her proudest moment as a mother, but she finally had it. Some actual money. A whole twelve dollars to eat something besides junk for once.

It had its costs, too.

Kate sneered at the magazine. In big bold yellow letters, PLAYBOY. Orange subtitle, BROADCAST NUDES. Followed by the killer last line: TV NEWSCASTER BARES ALL. Page by glossy page, she had flipped through it because she _thought_ men read it for the articles. The way they talked about it, she expected a fun story on journalism to save her from the monotony of snow outside and on the living room TV. Something to pass the time until the satellite signal came back. Only after reading through nearly the entire issue of scantily clad women with their splayed asses and pussies did she understand its appeal.

She would need to have a word with her son about hiding this filth in her house. For now, it stayed in a pile with the other porn mags near the Christmas tree.

Her ears perked to a tire screech, followed by their lawn jockey statue toppling over in the driveway. They had arrived - and in less than twenty minutes! Once again, Little Nero's Pizza lived up to its name. She grabbed the VCR remote, rushed to the front door and tried to contain her fidgety euphoria when the delivery boy knocked.

"Little Nero's here with your pizza."

Or delivery girl, by the sound of her. It didn't matter. Soon, she would have her best dinner in days, all while convincing the potential crook that a tougher, sterner woman was here to fight back if she tried anything. Kate eagerly pressed play.

"Leave it on the doorstep and get the hell outta here," boomed from the TV.

Horrified, Kate fumbled with the remote. How could she forget that foul-mouthed second half? Acting quick, she fast forwarded to prepare for the delivery girl's perfectly reasonable answer.

"... Okay, but what about the money?" the delivery girl said.

"What money?"

"You have to pay for your pizza, ma'am."

This was going nowhere. Certain she accomplished her goal, Kate slipped the money through the mail slot and waited.

... Except nothing happened. The delivery girl stood there with the pizza, ignoring the bills at her feet and defying the tape's original request. "Oooooh no. I know the stories about this place. These could be fakes. I need to see a person and some ID."

What stories? Confused, Kate wracked her brain for how to deal with this turn and ultimately settled on using a far cruder part of the tape. "Fakes. I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, no good, gold digging ass off my property."

"Okay, but I'm taking the pizza with me."

Upon hearing this, Kate bit her lip in defeat. She had a choice. Show her face and hope she could bluff another woman in the house, or let the girl leave. Likely with her hard-earned money to boot. 

At least this time she was prepared. With her perfectly styled short orange hair swept to one side, ruby lipstick that popped and a little rouge blush to bring out her baby blues, her head had an air of class appropriate for a rich lady of the house. Pulling back a white curtain next to the door, she poked that head up to the window and greeted the girl with a huge pleasant smile.

"Hi!" Kate chirped. "You must be from Little Nero's. You know, you got here much faster than I expected."

"Where's the rude woman I was talking to?" the delivery girl asked point blank.

"She's a little busy. I can assure you the money's good, so if you could just leave the pizza, that would be great."

Kate gestured downward. Met with an icy glare.

"Not a chance. I told your girlfriend that I need to see some ID. Besides, something's off about you not opening the door when you're right in front of it."

Kate stared at the mousey ponytailed brunette. She was right. Any normal person in any normal situation would have opened the door. The overly complicated scheme she concocted to get her hands on some pizza only drew _more_ attention. She needed a new plan. Something convincing that explained her behavior up til now.

Suddenly, it came to her. But... did she want to go through with it? She looked the girl over. Both women. No neighbors around, and in peeking up and down the street, she saw no other witnesses. She could do it. Plenty of ladies showed off much more in locker rooms. What's a few minutes for some real food?

Weighing her hunger against her embarrassment, she unlocked and opened the door.

To the delivery girl's shock. Before her stood a well-maintained redhead in the trashiest teddy she could imagine. A pair of perky pink tips pointed toward the girl as if accusing her, on breasts riddled with goosebumps and each big as the woman's head - albeit greatly lacking the same class. She took in the sight for long seconds until, finally, she blurted what anyone else would have.

"What the fuck is this?!"

Sheepishly, Kate tried to downplay the girl's reaction with a strained laugh. "Haha, what does it look like? You caught m- I mean us, at a bad time."

"Are you trying to seduce me? Cause if you are, I hate to break it to you but real life isn't a porno."

Kate's jaw dropped. Images from her husband's gross movie entered her mind unbidden. "Of course not."

"You're a high class call girl, then. Not many types of women greet strangers with their tits out while wearing flashy jewelry. Have to be."

"No! Oh god, no. You have it all wrong. I just... I didn't have time to make myself decent."

"Hmm..." The delivery girl pondered Kate's answer. It made a certain sense. "Okay, I'll bite. Show me some ID and I'll be out of your hair."

For Kate, giddy relief from the girl accepting her ruse soured into loss. Her ID was in her purse. With her husband. Halfway around the world. She _could_ grab a picture if she thought of it, but in her panicky, sugar-addled state, she forgot and blathered her dumbest excuse yet.

"I don't live here. I left my ID at home."

Befuddled, the delivery girl tried to size Kate up while processing this latest absurd revelation when her gaze fell on Kate's left hand. More specifically, her finger. Even more specifically, the huge diamond jutting from her wedding ring. Suddenly, all the pieces of this puzzle fit into place.

Kate caught on much slower. Her sheltered rich bitch life meant a distinct lack of imagination that required special strain to reach the same conclusions. Yet, eventually she managed to figure out why the delivery girl smirked. She gasped.

"What is it with you people? I'm not cheating on my husband!"

"Riiiiight. A married woman goes to another woman's house and neither of them wants to answer the door cause the neighbors might see. Happens all the time."

Kate stamped her foot, boobs jiggling from this fit of indignant shame. "I-I'll prove it! You can come inside. I'll show you everything."

"Sorry, Mrs.," she glanced at the receipt, "McCallister. I don't swing that way. But don't you worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Handing over the box of pizza, the delivery girl took her money and headed for her car when Kate called to her.

"Wait!"

The two looked at each other. One delivery girl ready to get the hell out of there. One skankily dressed mother desperate for aid. Swallowing another pound of pride, Kate asked, "Could I get some... special... service?"

"Goodbye, Mrs. McCallister."

"No, I didn't mean it that way!" Kate shouted, jingling her dangly gold earrings as the delivery girl sped off. "I'll pay you! You won't have to deliver another pizza!"

**************

She shouldn't have called. Big mistake. Now, she had someone pounding on the front door. It came unexpectedly, breaking the reverie of her peaceful afternoon. Whoever wanted in, they knocked so hard she could swear the walls shook. But it wasn't until the wreath above the mail slot fell off its hook that Kate rushed up the stairs, into her room and scurried under the bed.

She lay flat as she could. Her ass rubbed against the mattress. Boobs mashed against the floor. Quaking in fear, she winced while the mystery person slammed their fist with enough force to rattle the door's chain lock something fierce.

"Ow!" Kate cried when a spring pricked her butt, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. What if they already got inside?! She had to stay quiet. 

Of course, if Kate had stayed downstairs, she might have picked up on a hint of static and what the presumed assailant said into her two-way radio.

"There's no one home. House looks secure. Tell him to check his bed again."

Curiosity piqued, she might have peeked out the window and watched an officer in uniform return to her squad car. She would have heard the engine kick in and tires squeal as the officer left.

But she hadn't stayed downstairs. So while her one chance for real help drove off, the frightened snob who shouted, insulted, bargained and begged when at her wit's end instead remained under her bed. Huffing dust that clung to her sweaty skin. Staring into the hallway. Imagining what horrible things a crook could do if they found her.

Hours passed. Clocks chimed. The phone rang. Sunlight faded, until she laid there in the dark. It took that much time for Kate to calm her quivering tits. With a few deep breaths, she mounted a pep talk for herself that brought with it enough courage to get her out of her hiding spot.

"This is ridiculous. Only a kid would hide under the bed. And I'm not a kid. I'm the woman of this house. If I can't act more mature than my own kids, how can I expect them to take anything I say seriously?"

Standing, she flipped on the lights and remembered the blonde officer's warning. It couldn't be coincidence that a crook tried to break in the same day she ordered a pizza. They must have tapped the phones. Like the officer said. All told, at least she learned one valuable lesson from this ordeal: keep to herself.

**************

Across the street, Kate saw a familiar and much welcome face. Relief consumed the frazzled redhead. Finally, she could report the attempted break-in.

With some... corrections. Like the stern tone she took with the crooks when they threatened her. And the bat she beat them with when they snuck through a basement she certainly wasn't afraid to enter herself. Word would spread of how this brave wife and mother fended off attacks for days until she could safely contact the police. If lucky, the story would lift the pall of disgrace she earned from leaving her son behind last year.

It's just. Well. She had a problem. The officer was across the street. Too far to hear her. Hoping the officer would stop at her house during rounds was a gamble, one she didn't want to take given a week went by with no sign of her. She couldn't wait _another_ week. She had to act soon.

Kate knew her options. She hated them. But she came to accept the choice she made as she ripped white and red stockings off the fireplace and pulled them on her feet. The baggy pair sagged to her ankles. She could handle a little jaunt through the snow, she told herself. Throwing open her front door, she streaked halfway across her lawn in broad daylight when she noticed something peculiar.

The cop had a van. And a lanky partner. And armfuls of expensive looking objects they soon added to a wealth in said van.

"That's not the moving company..." she trailed. Her confusion turned to action when the duo buckled in and backed up. Hiding herself behind a nearby tree, Kate shivered in the cold. Catching just enough of a conversation between the two to get her ears burning.

"Hey Merry, that the place with the dumb rich bitch you were talkin' about?"

"That's the one. You shoulda seen her, Marl. Opens up with her everything hangin' out. I nearly fucked her right then and there."

Among this and other perversities, she eavesdropped on one final crucial detail that set her heart pounding and mind racing. They planned to rob her. Tonight. Scurrying back into the house, she locked up tight and hurried into the kitchen. Already, the beginnings of a plan hatched. One sure to redeem her wounded pride, prove her mettle, and best of all: avoid the embarrassment of talking to cops in next to nothing. Take out the crooks, and she could pilfer their clothes first. Simple.

**************

The plan failed.

They took everything. Her wedding ring. Her jewelry case. The tree, its presents, silverware, practically anything they could carry. In their wake, they left only the gaudiest trash they could find.

Which Included her.

Kate seethed. Arms tied behind her back, ankles bound together, vibrator thrumming away at her slit, she occupied the living room floor with a Santa hat atop her head and big Christmas bulbs dangling from her ears. Along with excessive blush brushed across her cheeks, and lights strung all around her crumpled form. Those lights glowed upon the bells-and-mistletoe clamped onto her poor tender nipples. Jingling a playful tone the more she moved. Bows and ribbons kept her in place. No chance of crawling, even rolling, to a spot where anyone might barely catch a glimpse of her.

Vestiges of her failure lingered. Broken ornaments. Toy cars. Paint cans hanging by string above the stairs. A litany of measures that, in hindsight, had about as much merit as one of her kids playing house. Hardly what you'd expect from a grown woman of _her_ standing. She should've had more sense.

Trying to cover a robber with feathers? Seriously? What was she thinking!?

She wasn't. That was the problem. And how she ended up watching the Playboy Channel for eight hours straight. Her gaze trained on the burly pool guy on screen ramming a stay-at-home mom from behind. It kept her distracted from the waves of orgasm crashing through her raw pussy when she came, not to mention her slick sweaty skin and how badly she reeked of sex.

Suddenly, the front door's knob jiggled. Salvation! She writhed, perking up when a nice cool breeze wafted over her hot and horny bod.

"Mmn Mhhr!" Kate screamed through the stocking in her mouth. Her efforts paid off when she heard the one voice she longed for most after this ordeal.

"Honey? What are you doing on the floor like that?"

"PFFFRRR!"

Despite her constant wriggling, to her dismay, her husband seemed in no hurry to unwrap his 'present'. Yet he did take the time to read who left it for him.

"Wet Bandits?" Peter pondered, peering down at her bared ass. "Huh. Guess you're kinkier than I thought. Love the red and green lips, by the way. Nice touch."

That's when Kate realized. Marl and Merry hadn't stopped at doodles and kisses. She was their calling card... and that made her evidence. Every part of her. She went flush, imagining the photos and accompanying headlines to come from her time home alone.


End file.
